Where's Death?
by try2behave
Summary: “‘Death is but the next great adventure.’ ‘Er, right. Would you care to put money on that?’” The consequences of a onesided bet between Aberforth and Albus.


**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Where's Death? **

_Or what happens when you combine boredom with magic and adages_

The red-haired boy was lying on his back in the tall grass, hidden from view and intrusions. Or so he wanted to believe.

"I know, Albus," someone yelled. Another, shorted, boy flopped himself onto the lawn, almost landing on Albus. His brown, curly hair was filled with leaves – _brown, dry_ leaves. It was mid-July.

"Really?" The red-head turned on his stomach. He reached into a trouser pocket. "Here, have a sugar-coated nut, Aberforth," he said, handing over a bag filled with the offered treat.

"Do I look like a squirrel?"

"Um." Albus looked quite guilty for some reason as he thrust the bag in his brother's hands. "Just try one."

Aberforth's eyes grew wide. "Ooo," he cooed. "Where did you get these?" The nuts did look rather appealing, as they were painted in various colours, emitting a faint glow, smelling of unspeakable delights and well, sugar-coated.

He took a blue-coloured nut and held it into the light, studying it passionately. "Nice," he said, as he started to munch it.

"I transfigured them from some goat-biggie."

"Really? Great!"

"No, not really." Albus laughed. "I can't believe you'd eat goat-biggie!"

"Goats are cute," Aberforth said, sulkily. "Well, I can't believe you can say 'goat-biggie' with a straight face!" He frowned, deep in thought, and then scoffed. "You're twelve," he added, in a tone one would normally use when explaining why people eat meat… to a chicken. Rather expectedly, he was ignored.

"Anyway," he continued, decidedly. "I thought of something you can't learn about." Silence. "Aren't you going to ask me _what_ it is?"

"Have another nut."

Aberforth stomped a foot in frustrating. It was rather close to Albus' head.

"All right, what is it?"

"Death," replied the shorter boy gleefully, as if they were discussing cute puppies and nauseatingly sweet sweets.

Albus simply smiled, light shining in his blue eyes. "Death is but the next great adventure," he retorted, sagely.

His brother looked really unimpressed. "Er, right," he said, blandly. His eyes appeared unfocused for a moment. He suddenly perched up. "Would you care to put money on that?" He grinned.

"I've no money. And anyway, it's not like we could really find out if it's true."

"See," Aberforth said, smugly, "you can't learn anything _sure_ about death."

"I don't _need_ to learn."

"Ha!"

A butterfly landed on a cornflower, near Albus' right foot. Aberforth's eyes settled briefly on it, growing wide. He smiled, as the butterfly stretched its yellow wings. "You know…" he started to say.

"Have another nut."

The butterfly flew away.

"Fine!" Aberforth exploded. "Fine," he added more quietly. "You can stay here and eat your nuts." His face broke into a sly grin. "Ahem," he continued. "I'm going to _test_ your theory."

"No," Albus replied, calmly. "You're not."

His brother didn't reply. He only got up from the grass, slowly, stretching his back ostentatiously. "Right." He snorted, and then ran off.

A few moments passed. Albus tried to focus on following a bunny-shaped cloud's travel across the sky. When the cloud became a rather ugly squirrel, however, he realized it wasn't working.

He got up, huffing, and left in Aberforth's search.

What he found made him gape. Aberforth was standing in a boat, in the middle of the anaemic pond, near their house. He had a wand – their mother's wand, Albus guessed. He was waving it, muttering loudly, as he was reading from a battered book.

Albus watched curiously as his brother tapped the boat with the wand. It glowed blue for a couple of seconds. Albus didn't have time to ponder on what was his brother doing or on how prettily the colour went with the decrepit boat's brown tones, for Aberforth suddenly jumped into the water.

The pond was quite shallow. Therefore, Aberforth's try at swimming would have been completely fruitless and safe… if Aberforth would have been a normal person, that is. The boy, however, was one of the worst possible swimmers and _somewhat_ terrified of water on top of that.

He had fallen into the pond when he had been one and a half. Nobody had been home and the boy – who had managed to trick six house-elves and a very clever dog – thought that the pond was only a pretty, gigantic mirror. A goat had rescued him; a very irritating obsession with the animal had resulted from the incident.

That is why, when he saw his brother go to the bottom of the puddle of water, Albus panicked. Unthinkingly, he jumped in after him.

That proved to be a bad decision.

The pond's surface instantly solidified, as Albus' body completely submerged. They were both trapped in the muddy pond - underwater. It was so shallow that they had to stay prone in it to avoid hitting their heads.

Swallowing great amounts of water and feeling horribly light-headed, Albus glared at his brother. Aberforth was leaning his head on his folded arms, lying casually on his stomach.

Albus tried to find his wand in his wet robes and avoid dying, when he felt a terrible sensation near his navel.

They both landed in a dark cave, lit by an unseen source. The light was red, the air thick. It smelled of burnt leaves and autumn.

"Where are we?" Aberforth asked. Water was dripping from his hair.

"I've no idea." Albus glared at his brother. "It was your spell that brought us here." He shook his head. Water flew from it. "What was it, anyway?"

"I wanted to see if death was really the next great adventure. The book said that if you drown after performing that spell, you'll see death."

"Well, of course you'll see death. You'll drown."

"Yes, you will, but only for as long it'll take you to see death."

"Meaning?"

'"I don't know. I didn't really read all of it…" Aberforth responded, sulkily. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd known, would I?" he snapped, after a short pause.

'Well, hello, young sirs," someone said, in a squeaky voice. They turned around simultaneously. A red creature that looked eerily like a house-elf with a pair of impressing horns instead of ears was looking at them with big, black eyes.

"I _may_ have an idea about where we are," Albus said, quietly.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Albus turned towards the hybrid house-elf. "Hello. Um, are we in Hell?"

Aberforth turned suddenly towards his brother, as the creature simply rubbed its head, thoughtfully.

"Theoretically… yes," it responded.

"Theoretically?" Aberforth asked, all alarm gone from his eyes.

"Well… yes. You're in really deep. One of the oldest, deepest levels." It stopped and sighed. "We don't get much funding down here. Not anymore, young sir." Another sigh came from between the creature's lips. "No more coal. And without the coal you've got no Hell," it continued, wretchedly. "Now it's only a wicked cave."

Albus raised an eyebrow.

"Wow," Aberforth breathed.

"Pretty impressive, I'll give you that," the creature acknowledged. "Though it really loses its appeal if you stay here too long, like us imps have to."

Aberforth's eyes widened. "You're an imp?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

"Oh, yes!"

Albus' eyes were slightly narrowed. He tilted his head to one side. "You look like a house-elf."

The imp seemed to bristle at that. He gave an indignant "_umph_."

"And you look like a soggy carrot, boy," it said.

Aberforth laughed. "He does, he does!"

"It's hardly my fault," Albus said, calmly.

The imp started laughing as well. It suddenly stopped. "Say," it said, "what are you two _humans_ doing in here?" Its big, black eyes narrowed, as a spiked tail that had been conveniently covered until then rose into the air.

"Um," Aberforth tried to explain the situation.

Albus shrugged. "Have you ever tasted sugar-covered nuts?" he asked, innocently.

The tail disappeared. The imp smiled. "Why, no, I have not," it said, eyeing the sweet Albus had retrieved from a pocket.

"No? Well, that's a pity," Albus said. He turned towards his brother. "Don't you think so, Abe?"

Aberforth mouthed 'Abe,' his expression betraying his confusion. Albus glared at him, jerking his head in the imp's direction. Aberforth's eyes widened. "Ah," he said, smiling mischievously. "A pity, indeed." He grinned. "Al," he added, smirking.

"Right," Albus muttered. The imp was salivating profusely. It was rather disgusting. Smirking, Albus popped the sweet into his mouth. "Mmm," he said; the imp's mouth was open; drool was falling to the black ground in large drops from it.

"Oh, did you want one?" he asked the imp, naively.

The imp couldn't do anything but nod.

"How do we get out of here?"

The imp shook its head, clearly trying to clear it. "You can't. You're in Hell," it replied.

"Theoretically," Aberforth supplied, hopefully.

"That's usually enough," the imp countered.

"Why are we in Hell?" Albus intervened.

Eyeing the inside pocked of Albus' wet robe, the imp shook its head. "How should I know? That's way out of my jurisdiction. The Board usually deals with repartitions." It scratched its right horn. "But you'd have to be rather dim _not_ to notice meeting the Board…" It gave the two boys a piercing look, studying them.

It huffed, continuing, "Well… you're rather wet." Now it appeared that its left horn was irritating it. "Oh, let me guess!" It rolled its bulging eyes. "That stupid spell. I should have known! They used to drop in here like flies in the good ol' days." It stopped, tilting its head to one side. "Not that there are all that many flies around here," it muttered.

"Really?" Aberforth seemed intrigued by the imp's infatuated speech. Albus was simply studying their surroundings. They were in an enormous cave: black, smooth walls everywhere; the pungent smell of burnt… something attacking their sinuses; a large pit some metres in front of them. Something was moving in it.

The imp started speaking. "Well, yes. This is an ancient part of Hell, after all," it said, proudly. Then, as a wave of sadness rolled over it, the imp muttered, "If only the idiots on that _stupid_ Board would see… This is no stupid hole…" It pulled itself together. "Ahem. Why don't you just dry off, _boys_?"

A dry, hot wind swept over them. It itched its way over their wet clothes and body - a faint sting of warmth – drying them.

"Wow," Aberforth breathed.

"Oh, yes." The imp smirked. "Anyway, you'll have to meet the Board."

Albus raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, lads. Yes, yes. The Board," it breathed, maliciously. The imp jerked its head towards the ceiling; a long ladder fell through the black stone. "Come along… Come along."

---

To say the Board was impressive was like saying that a gargoyle was a pretty, little birdie.

Imps and… other creatures of all shapes and sized were seated at a table that would, several decades later, serve as a model for the Staff Table of a certain magical school.

A blond, glaring man, with a pair of small, glowing horns peeking out from his hair, narrowed his electric blue eyes upon their arrival.

The imp bowed its head in respect towards the odd assembly. Scowling, impassive faces met its gesture. Only a female imp, that was a deeper red, shot it meaningful - totally unrelated to the topic at hand - little looks.

"Mr. Louie, sir!" the imp addressed the blond man. "These two fell into my level."

The man's eyes narrowed, his lips drawing themselves into his mouth. Sharp teeth bit into the lower one. He coughed, and then raised an eyebrow. After a short while, in which the imp seemed to have held its breath, he said, "These two?" His voice was deep and low. He smiled cruelly.

The imp nodded.

Mr. Louie started snickering madly. "Wonderful, wonderful," he murmured between laughs.

"Er, Mr. Louie?" Aberforth started to say, reluctantly. The man stopped laughing, abruptly.

"Yes?" he eventually responded, looking around, at the other creatures seated at the table, amused.

"I was wondering…" Aberforth continued, ignoring Albus' blue glare. "Since we've here… Where's Death?"

The man raised a pale, elegant eyebrow. The gesture's sophistication was a little shadowed by the undignified snort he gave a few seconds later.

A tall, black, furry thing started laughing. "That's a good one, that's a good one," it kept repeating, in a hoarse voice. The imp next to the boys seemed to grow a darker, brownish kind of red. It seemed rather embarrassed, as it shuffled its feet on the sandy floor. Pink spots were starting to appear on its skin.

The laugher ceased, as the furry creature choked. A brown-haired, little woman, with high cheeks and a brooding countenance, slapped it on the back. "Really!" she exclaimed. Two gigantic horns grew from her lank hair. "You old, senile duffer. You can't die; but why tempt your sad luck?" she asked, mockingly.

The blond man rolled his eyes. After he cleared his throat loudly and deliberately, after he ran a perfectly manicured set of long, clean nails through his hair, and after pursing his red, full lips, he started speaking. "You know why you're here, boy?"

"Yes," Aberforth replied. Albus was looking around. His eyes settled on a red-headed woman with a pair of glowing, black eyes. She was smiling. Albus raised an eyebrow, suppressing his grin. Her deep eyes finally met his. She winked.

"Why?" the man snapped.

"Because I performed Worb—er, Worple's spell."

The man raised an eyebrow. "From that book -- What was it called? –- "_How to See the Grand Beyond? Five bad ideas"_ by Eldred Worple?"

Aberforth looked blank. "I'm not really sure…" He cast a furtive look at Albus, who was studying the ceiling. He looked back at the table. "I didn't read the book's title," he admitted.

The man raised an eyebrow; he looked perplexed. The furry thing snorted, earning itself an _"At least he can read!"_ from the woman next to him.

Aberforth's brow furrowed. "Uhu," he muttered.

"Why didn't you?" a small imp, wearing a giant pair of glassed, asked.

"It was rather long…"

"Long?" the imp repeated dumbly.

"Did you at least read the spell, boy?" the blond man asked, somewhat disconcerted.

"Not all of it…"

Albus' eyes snapped down from the ceiling. The blond man's horns grew, as his face contorted into a vicious sneer.

"Then you don't know that there's _no_ Death and that you have to walk throughout the…" here he lowered his voice "… the Great Beyond, until you find the meaning of life, death and a good, reliable recipe for chocolate cake."

"The meaning of life? In the Netherworld?" exclaimed Aberforth at the same time as Albus asked, amused, "Chocolate cake?"

"No, boy," the man responded, looking at Aberforth. "In the Great Beyond, not the Netherworld. There _is_ a difference!" He drew in a deep breath. "And you'll need the recipe to return home."

Seeing the boys' puzzled looks, he continued, "There's only one way back: the same way you came in…" His voice became wistful. "I haven't eaten a good chocolate cake in… six thousand, three hundred, sixty five years and twenty-six days." He sighed. "Twinkle really doesn't know how to prepare it."

"Twinkle?"

"My chef…"

"Oh."

He drew in another breath. His eyes narrowed. "Begone! Go bother some angels, or, maybe, a couple of lesser gods… We're busy here!"

"Not with analyzing the budget," the imp that had greeted the boys, upon their arrival in Hell, muttered.

Aberforth seemed ready to go; he turned around, ready to march through Hell without a care in the world.

"How can we find some gods to bother?" Albus asked.

"Oh." The man became thoughtful. "Well… There's always Hades… But I don't really get along with him." He winced. "Competition and all that," he muttered.

He scratched his chin. "I could send you to Black Annis' Bower…" Albus paled. Aberforth turned around. His eyes grew large.

"She's real?" he asked, enthusiastically.

"Boy!" the furry thing snapped. "You're in Hell, talking to the Deuce… What do you think?"

Glaring at the creature, Aberforth eyes settled on Mr. Louie. He grew wary.

Albus smirked. "You're saying you want to send us to a one eyed crone, who takes immense delight in eating little children, so we might find a good chocolate cake recipe?"

"Er… When you put it that way… No," Louie answered, sulkily. "She was a pagan goddess once, just so you know, boy!"

"Was?"

"Nobody believes in her anymore… She lost all followers. Ate them all… A goddess is nothing without her followers."

"Oh."

"No matter…" The man looked at the red-haired woman that had winked at Albus. She was studying her nails. "Say, what do you think, Electra?"

"Why not send them around level two? There are some fiends there who should know something about life and who probably know _everything_ about death."

Louie scoffed in her face. "I want that recipe! If somebody… _something_ here, in Hell, had it, it'd know."

"Oh, well…" She rolled her eyes, then muttered something that sounded very much like "If they'd had some good chocolate cake they wouldn't have been in here," rolling her eyes.

"You could send them up…" the furry thing supplied.

"Peter would never allow them in. Not since that last time… with Merlin."

"There is that."

"Just throw them out!" the brunette snapped. She scoffed, as she added, "They'll find you the recipe... eventually. You have time!"

"Of course I have time… I wanted to use it to eat chocolate cake."

"If you could take your evil, yet incapable, mind away from pudding, you'd see that this place is truly out of shape. For shame, really! For shame." Her pair of horns grew rapidly as she spoke. "Hades is no longer competition. He's way ahead!"

"You're the one who manages our budged, Morgana," Louie snapped, at the same time as the little imp near Albus and Aberforth quietly exclaimed, "Aha!"

"What budget? There's absolutely _no_ budget."

"It's all you'll get!"

"It's not enough, you pathetic excuse for a devil!"

"I will not be spoken this way!"

"You _are_ being spoken this way, Louie-boo!" She smirked, her horns beginning to glow faintly. "You are the laughing-stock of Hades' whole Netherworld. And when I think that the man manages Tartarus _and_ Elysium and still does a better job with Tartarus than you, Louie, with your precious Hell…" She huffed.

"You--- you—"

"I what?"

"You evil devil, you!"

"Well… Thank you, Louie." She smirked. "I have to admit… You _are_ a charmer."

He glared, speechless, his horns losing their glow. And then, suddenly, he turned towards the boys. "You'd better get me that chocolate cake recipe!" He frowned and then, settling his eyes on the imp who had brought the lads to him, said, "Take them to the Barguest!"

Albus' eyes grew large and he opened his mouth to protest, when Louie snapped his fingers and they were back in the large cave they had landed into.

"Hm," the imp said. "Well, we should get going…"

"Wait," Albus stopped it. "How can a dog help us?"

"The Barguest's not a dog, boy." The imp sighed. "He'd be really angry to find you've called him that… He goes by _the Grim_, nowadays, says it's better…" It snorted. "Now people think there's two kinds of them. Today's death omens… _tut,_ _tut_. For shame, Miss. Morgana was right."

"Well, death omen or not, I don't thing he has a chocolate cake recipe."

The imp snorted. "He may have some sense of the meaning behind death… and maybe life."

---

The Barguest was a sulky creature that liked to change between a big, black dog and a small, light-brown bear.

Immediately after Aberforth had asked its help, it endeavoured to bore them to death with its rumbling speech.

"And it was in the summer of one thousand and seven when me dad said, 'Lad, ye're rather dim and ye aren't that much of a bear either… Why don't ye try being a dog?' I was young an' I thought me old man to be rather dim himself. I was right… But that's fer another time—"

And he went on. The boys felt their eyes drop. The Barguest barked. It suddenly turned into a man. "So you fine young men need a high-quality chocolate cake recipe?" he asked, in a clear, steady voice.

Albus blinked. A smile suddenly stretched over his face. "Yes, sir."

"What a pity!" the man answered, turning towards the imp and smirking. Albus smiled, as Aberforth's face darkened. The younger boy scowled.

"_I_ don't want a stupid recipe…" Aberforth grumbled.

"Oh, wonderful… Because I don't have one." The-Grim-turned-man scratched his armpit. "I know someone who does, though."

"How about the meaning of life and death?" Albus asked.

"I'm a dog," the man said, shaking his head. "I have no knowledge of such facts," he continued, pompously. He winked.

"You are a death omen!" Aberforth exclaimed. "You are The Grim," he added, emphasising 'The Grim' to the point where the capitalization was audible.

"The Grim's a dog, child."

"Alright… So, who has that bloody recipe?"

"You really should endeavour to censor your speech when you are in the presence of company," the man retorted, taking great pleasure in hearing himself speak.

The pleasure was quickly erased, as Aberforth said, smirking, "You're a dog."

"True," the man acknowledged, a little peevishly. "Go see this woman, Trelawney… in the Netherworld… She had a row with Mr. Louie. Maybe she'll know something."

---

The Netherworld was different from Hell in only one aspect; it was actually an extraordinarily vast land that _only_ looked like a cave without walls.

They had managed to get in with a good word from the Grim, who was a good friend of Cerberus. On his part, Charon had frowned, and scowled, and sneered, and stomped a foot in frustration, and then attempted to dump Aberforth in the Styx, but had eventually taken them across the dark river. He was displaying a swelling, on the verge of blackening, eye.

They found Trelawney after a short walk away from the river and the pouting ferryman. She was running after a harassed-looking man. "How about a crystal ball reading, Menelaus?" she asked, in a hoarse voice.

"We're dead! Dead, woman! Why, in Zeus' poor grace, would I want to know my future?" He stopped. She bumped into his broad back. He turned to glower at her. "Let me see…" he started to say, in a mock imitation of her oddly manly voice, "I foretell darkness and an eternity of boredom." He rolled his eyes. "I didn't even need a crystal ball!" he added, smirking. He walked away.

She sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands. "I was better off in Hell," she muttered. "At least, that bamboozle Louie thought he needed to know the future…" Her left hand's fingers dug into the black sand. "I should have kept my mouth closed…"

"Er, excuse me… Miss Trelawney?" Albus said, uncertainly.

"Unfortunately," she replied, rising up from the ground. "Never found a husband, you see," she went on, to the boys' bewilderment. "Who would want to marry someone who knows her husband will cheat on her before _he_ does?" she asked, looking at Albus like she expected him to answer.

"Who, indeed?" Aberforth responded, instead.

She looked at him quizzically. "Good question, young man." She blinked. "That goat of yours will get you in trouble some day."

Aberforth shrugged. Albus grinned. "Do you know why we're here, then?" the older brother asked.

"Of course," she said, calmly. "Well, I don't know much about life. Death is my speciality." She scratched her brow. "They say someday you will die and the dirt you will become will be scattered throughout this forgotten land of humans – the Earth," she started to say, solemnly.

She scowled. "Of course, you will then end up as the forgotten land of humans, which is not the brightest prospect of immortality. After all, one can get so many advantages out of eternity. Surely, getting stepped on – in the best of circumstances – isn't one of them."

"Er, right," Aberforth proceeded to flaunt his favourite phrase.

Trelawney grew thoughtful, and silent. Albus opened him mouth to ask something, when her eyes narrowed. "Oi, boy!" she yelled in his face, smirking. After a few seconds of malevolent staring, she wiped the smirk off her face. "Ahem, well, you boy… you'll be the greatest wizard of the next century." She scratched her dishevelled bun.

Aberforth snorted.

"You'll be appropriately loved and hated by your fellow wizards." She paused. "Witches do not apply. Merlin knows what other women see in an old man with an untamed beard! Hm, maybe I should ask him." Her eyes grew distant. "Yes, yes, I'll ask him."

Aberforth cleared his throat, loudly.

"Oh, right. Where was I?"

"Appropriately loved and hated by fellow wizards," Aberforth supplied. Albus rolled his eyes.

"Oh, yes… Which only means that you'll be hated by all people who know and don't know you, and some of those will have pangs of guilt about hating you," she continued. "Oh, well, that's the price one must pay for killing two dark wizards."

Aberforth was fast becoming excited. Albus started paying attention.

"One only indirectly, though. That's the price light asks, I say. Oh, and a humiliating murder."

The boys' eyes widened.

"Many people will think of your murder as euthanasia, some will even consider it suicide… and then, the majority will see it as a blood-freezing, gut-curling, hate-inducing, love-quenching, green-lighted, scowl-wiping… er, did I say gut-curling?"

"Yes." Aberforth looked bored.

"Very well," she said, amiably. "_MURDER!"_ she bellowed. "The truth is that you'll destroy at least two people's minds and souls in the process."

"So, it's suicide, then?" Aberforth asked.

"No," Trelawney answered, calmly. A dark-haired man walked past. "Sal, wait for me. Wait!" She started to run after the man. "How about a tea-leaves reading?"

The boys were soon alone.

---

After walking around in the Netherworld for what seemed like hours, they stopped in front of a large, black rock.

"It looks like a goat," Aberforth supplied.

Albus refrained from responding. They both sat down on it.

"I think I prefer Hell, too," Aberforth continued.

"Too bad, as it appears we're stuck here."

"Oh, young fellows, don't look so down," a tall man, with black hair and matching eyes, said. The boys looked up.

"Who are you?" Aberforth inquired.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm Death, of course."

Albus grew thoughtful.

Aberforth scratched his chin. "But Mr. Louie said there's no Death."

"It's not my fault Louie is a mambo-jumbos-spilling idiot, is it?"

"I don't know," Aberforth saw fit to answer.

"I _do_ prefer him to Hades, though. Since he and Persephone have started having marital problems, the man has been a wreck. Disgusting, really!" Death continued. "They've never truly gotten along, though. Abduction is not a great way to win a girl's heart."

"Are you truly Death?"

"Of course. Do you want to see my driver's license?"

"Your _what_?"

"My dri—Oh, pardon me, you don't know what that is… It's from the future," he said, patronizingly. "You see… boys, I, as Death, can travel through time." He smirked. "I'm pretty fond of the two-thousands… Right after a century of wizarding wars." He grew thoughtful. "A boy finished the last dark lord. A mere boy – a seventeen-year-old whelp – Harry Potter!"

"Harry Potter," Albus repeated.

"He nearly died in the process," Death went on. "I say he would have died, if it hadn't been for Albus Dumbledore's… _previous_… help."

"Really?" Aberforth breathed, in awe.

"Oh, yes, great wizard, that man…" He got a better look at the boys. He smiled. "You're him!" He started laughing, pointing at Albus. "Oh, well, you gave me an autograph, when I came after you… In the future, that is." He tilted his head to a side. "Can't let you here, can I, now? Well then. Bye, boys. Take care."

Aberforth and Albus blinked; when they opened their eyes, they were in the grass, on the meadow. The sun was high in the sky; the bag of nuts was between them; Aberforth was munching a nut.

"Interesting…" Albus mussed.

"Sure," Aberforth said. He got up and pocketed a couple of nuts. "I'm going to play with the goats," he stated.

The End


End file.
